


Bedtime Stories

by frek, xKxDx (TheMortalSif)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Art, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fanart, Illustrated, Illustrations, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Memories, Reading, Reading Aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMortalSif/pseuds/xKxDx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek hasn't been read to since he was young enough to sit on his father's lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

> This collab was created, as promised, for Sterek winning the slash madness tournament. The art is by the incredible [xKxDx](http://xkxdx.tumblr.com), the fic by [frek](http://frek.tumblr.com).
> 
> A SUPER huge thanks to [jsea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jsea/profile) for the incredible beta-work. This wouldn't be half the story it is without you. <333

Derek sighed contentedly, stretching out on the bed above Stiles, who was sitting on the floor with his back to the bed, a well loved book in his hands. Derek closed his eyes and settled with his head resting over the side of the bed, and on Stiles' shoulder, letting himself focus on the sound of Stiles’ voice. The gentle rise and fall of his words, the soft breaths he took between paragraphs, washed over Derek, soothing him and reminding him of what it felt like to be so cared for. Derek didn't catch every word, but it almost didn't matter. The words weren't the point, anyway.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been read to. The last time he’d laid out on his bed or on the floor and just listened to someone's voice spin out wild tales or comforting stories. Derek's father used to read to him and his siblings all the time when they were young, but that felt like a lifetime ago. He could distinctly remember the comfort of curling up beside his father on the couch, though, head resting on his shoulder so he could see the pictures on the pages. He’d always felt so safe beside his father, like nothing could ever hurt them, his strength apparent even when he was imitating the squeaky voice of Mickey Mouse and inspiring giggles from all his children. Derek hadn't felt that way in more years than he wanted to admit. Not until Stiles.

\- - -

When Stiles moved in with him, Derek was reluctant to merge all of their belongings, particularly their respective collections of books. Stiles' taste in books was eclectic at best, everything from well worn children's storybooks to dusty, old leather-bound tomes that Stiles liked to call _research_. They’d all been kept haphazardly around his old room in stacks that defied any concept of organization to Derek, though Stiles had claimed to know the title of every book and where it was. Derek's books on the other hand were lined neatly on the shelves he had built along the wall of his loft, opposite his open kitchen. He kept them organized between subjects, fiction separated from non-fiction, everything alphabetized so he could find things easily. So when Stiles started unpacking his books, just tossing them indiscriminately onto the shelves, Derek couldn't help immediately pulling them back down, dropping them into their boxes with pointed thumps.

"Do the books not belong on the shelf, Derek?" Stiles asked, an edge of irritation in his voice, and expression stormy. Every muscle in his body suggested an imminent argument. 

"The books," Derek started calmly, with an emphatic gaze at the disorganized volumes in their boxes, "don't get _piled_ on the shelves. They get organized just like the rest." He watched Stiles follow his eye to the neatly ordered rows of books, saw the understanding in his features as he realized the care that had been taken in placing each, regardless of subject.

Stiles nodded, letting the paperback in his hand fall into the box with the others, a soft smile playing on his lips. He closed the distance between them, resting one palm on Derek's chest before cupping the back of his neck and leaning in for a quick kiss. "Okay," he sighed when they parted, "I'll let you handle the books then, on one condition."

"What's that?" Derek asked, relaxing when he knew the possibility of a fight had passed. 

"Explain to me what exactly you've got going on here when you're done," Stiles said, stepping back and motioning with flailing hands at the entire wall of books and shelves.

"I promise," Derek said, smiling now as Stiles walked over to the boxes he had piled by the bed, clearly intent on leaving Derek to his system.

Derek took his time going through Stiles' books, slotting them in amongst his own, the shelves slowly filling until they were no longer just Derek's books and Stiles' book, but _their books_. 

He was several boxes in, when he came across Stiles' Harry Potter collection. He pulled them out one by one, looking them over; they were well worn, clearly having been handled often over the years. The dust jackets were frayed around the edges, clear tape repairing small tears on a couple. Derek sat down beside the stack and picked up the first book, carefully thumbing through the dog-eared pages of Sorcerer's Stone for the first time. He took in the shape of the text, the images at the head of each chapter, and he couldn’t help but think about how the words would have sounded in his father's voice, how he'd voice the characters, if he were to do the accents.

He was so lost in his thoughts and memories that Derek didn’t even realize Stiles had stepped up behind him until long fingers curled over his shoulder. "Okay?" Stiles asked, and Derek nodded, closing the book in his hands. "My dad... He used to read to us when we were kids. He read these to my brother and sister, but I’d stopped listening to him by the time they were released." Derek laughed self-deprecatingly, "I guess I was too cool to be bothered with something so childish, so I never read them... " Derek let his voice trail off, already having said more than he normally felt comfortable sharing.

Stiles nodded, and bent down to pick up the book, flipping through the pages with practiced care. "My mom and I read them together. It was a tradition of ours. As the last few books were released, we'd spend the first weekend after doing nothing but reading," Stiles paused, swallowing roughly. "I could read them to you?" The question lingered between them for a long moment, before Stiles added a rushed, "I mean, if you wanted me to... It's not that I think-"

"Yes," Derek said, realizing that Stiles couldn't read his thoughts and the elated yes! his mind yelled in response to the offer. He reached up and rested a hand on Stiles'. "I'd love you to."

\- - -

That was how Derek found himself sprawled out on their bed a few nights later, listening to Stiles read about Harry, Ron, and Hermione defeating a troll in the girl's bathroom. Derek couldn't help but smile at their eerily familiar mixture of luck and knowledge. It brought back memories of when he'd first met Stiles, how this hyperactive _kid_ had somehow managed to survive any danger, in the process challenging everything Derek knew about the world, about himself.

As he read, Stiles did the voices and accents of the characters, and at first the silly accents made Derek laugh, eliciting a playful punch in the arm from Stiles, but as he continued, Derek felt something warm blossom in his chest. It was that same feeling that his father had instilled in him so many years ago, and instead of hurting like he had thought it would, he was _happy_. Derek sighed with contentment once more, and tilted his head to nuzzle just below Stiles' jaw to keep from laughing again when Stiles attempted to imitate McGonagall's voice, his own coming out more like an angry warble. 

When Stiles finished the chapter just a few minutes later, Derek took the book from his hands and marked the page, setting it aside before turning to press the softest of kisses to Stiles' lips. "Time for bed," he whispered as he pulled back.

Stiles grinned, climbing to his feet, never straying out of Derek's reach. "Five points to Ravenclaw for a brilliant suggestion."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us both on tumblr. :) [@frek](http://frek.tumblr.com) and [@xKxDx](http://xkxdx.tumblr.com). (And you can reblog the gorgeous artwork [on tumblr here](http://xkxdx.tumblr.com/post/96910360295/illustration-for-freks-fic-bedtime-stories)).


End file.
